You Can Always Count On Me
by 221blackandwhitestripes
Summary: When Ed wakes up, Oswald can breathe again.


_Anything for you._

Butch's gun fires and Oswald is left reeling. It is utter chaos, his heart beating wildly in his chest. Still beating, still beating, even though Oswald's sure it shouldn't be.

"Oops," Ed speaks and laughs, the sound rumbling and dark, like when Oswald had first met him. What is going on?

More shots, but from Zsasz this time, and they don't land in him either, they land in Butch.

"The Mayor, _our_ Mayor, vowed that all the red hood would be destroyed. And now we have the real leader caught, red… handed." Ed's words sink in slowly, Oswald struggling to process what all of this means.

"You really thought I'd give you real bullets? You are an _idiot_." Oswald doesn't know what that means, only knows that he should be dead and, yet, is alive.

The mask is pulled away and, yes, it is Butch. He couldn't quite believe it before, but it is undeniable before his eyes. He has been betrayed, and the feeling rips through him much like any bullet would.

He finds a gentle poetry in that.

Oswald's lungs are heaving, burning with every breath, and that's how he notices he's screaming.

"I will _kill_ you for this!" He stumbles forward, off the stage, leaning over Butch as he spits "After all that I've done for you! I gave you a job-"

" **I gave you** _ **everything!**_ " Oswald's jaw tightens. "I used to be somebody in this town, and then you and that snivelling little son of a b-"

Oswald doesn't let him finish his sentence.

 _You can always count on me._

"Showtime." Butch knocks the gun from Zsasz's hand, powering towards him, and all he can hear is Ed saying "Oswald, _move_."

He watches helplessly as Ed fight's the grip around his throat, his lips pulled back in a glorious snarl as he gazes up into Butch's eyes. Ed is dying, _dying_. Oswald feels it too, the blood seeming to drain from him as he watches.

 _Anything for you_.

"Best party ever!" Barbara's words snap him into focus. He snatches the bottle from her hands, spins and brings it down hard on the back of Butch's head. He no longer cares whether Butch lives or dies, only cares about the man who's _no longer breathing_ , the man who makes everything worthwhile.

He _needs_ him.

"Ed? Ed? _Ed?_ " His name falls from Oswald's lips again and again as he helplessly tangles his fingers in the man's suit. Ed doesn't respond and, for a moment, Oswald truly believes that he's gone, that he'd lost yet another friend, another loved one, because of his ignorance.

But then Ed wakes up, and Oswald can breathe again.

 _You can always count on me._

Oswald takes Ed home, and it feels right. He envelopes him in his father's robe, and it looks right. He makes him his mother's tea, sets him in front of the fire, and everything is just as it should be. The firelight dances across Edwards skin and lights up his eyes, and Oswald's sure he's never seen anything so beautiful.

The mark on Ed's throat is in dark contrast to the warmth in the room, a reminder that Ed could have been gone tonight. Oswald could've lost him. He doesn't know how he would've survived.

"Are you sure you don't need a doctor?" He asks, not wanting Ed to leave the comfort of his living room but willing to do anything to make Ed better.

"No, I'm fine." Ed's voice scratches as he speaks and he coughs before sipping his tea. Oswald wants to ask him why he did this, why he put himself in the line of fire when he'd done nothing to deserve it. He asks a different question instead.

"I still don't understand why you didn't tell me what you were doing."

"Your shock when seeing Butch had to be genuine," Ed explains. "The people had to believe it. And they did. And, once again, you're the city's hero." Ed laughs breathily, and Oswald can't comprehend it. How was Oswald's image worth Ed getting hurt in the process? He was almost _killed_.

"And you saved me, _again_." It registers that Oswald spoke aloud, but it doesn't matter because he needs to know _why_. "I hope you know, Oswald, I would do anything for you."

 _Anything for you._

"You can always count on me."

 _You can always count on me._

Oswald pulls him into a hug and it feels like home. It's soft, like his mother's hugs, and Oswald's heart beats harder when he thinks about Ed almost being taken away from him like she was. His hand tightens in the fabric of the robe, pulling Ed closer. It's so close, but not close enough. Oswald clutches him, not wanting the man to leave his grasp, and that's what strengthens his resolve to pull away, he knows he wants something he shouldn't.

"I-I think it's best that you get some rest now." He pushes up off the couch, keeping his hobbling steps measured so it doesn't look like he's running away.

"Oswald?" Ed's voice stopped him, sending shivers down his spine.

"Yes?" He answered, not turning around for fear that Ed would see something in his eyes and he'd give himself away.

"Y-you…" Oswald finally turns and their eyes lock. They've entered some kind of a parallel universe unable to pull away, magnetized to one another as they each take a step forward. "I-I…" Ed laughs, the noise ragged in his throat. A part of Oswald's heart rears its head possessively as he recalls the night's activities once more.

"Just… Shut up." He's in Ed's space pushing up while a hand on Ed's shoulder pulls him down.

Their lips connect and it's exactly what he was missing.

They have to part soon, too soon, in order to breathe.

"Oswald," Ed whispers his name like a prayer. "Does this mean..?"

"Anything," Oswald tell him firmly. "I would do anything."

Ed smiles gently and captures his lips again. It leaves an indentation in Oswald's heart.

Soon, they'll have to leave this space, go to bed, sleep, and wake up for another day. The world keeps spinning, day turns to night then day again. But at this moment, they create something that neither the sun nor the moon could take away.

When they pull back, Oswald smiles.

 _Anything for you._

 _You can always count on me._


End file.
